


Epithymy

by silveriris



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dragon Age Kink Meme, F/M, Sampernia, erimond is only here to get a beating sorry bro but you had it coming, references to past abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 20:54:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4073581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silveriris/pseuds/silveriris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Calpernia is the kind of woman who could crush a man's skull under her shoe, after summoning flames to burn him alive. Samson is intrigued. / originally posted on DA Kink Meme; full summary and warnings inside</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> additional warning for slavery mention  
> Disclaimer: Dragon Age is not mine, although the writing certainly is.  
> A/N: based on this prompt from DA kink meme: http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/13429.html?thread=51945077#t51945077  
> “Somebody insults Calpernia, can be because of her look of a fact she is ex-slave, you have many things to point out, when you want to insult not a very pretty woman in a charge. Samson witnesses it and wants to stand up for her, because it's a girl, right, a man should not be so rude on girls, but before he has a chance Calpernia burn shit out of her insulters while having an epic speech about their lowness. It left Samson genuinely impressed. He tries to woo her after that.”  
> (Not sure if it meets specifications but I tried :') and yes, I'm kink meme trash, I'm sorry......)  
> I wrote this before Paying the Ferryman was published; I made one minor edit, so this version is slightly different than the one on the kink meme. I wanted to write something differently, idk if I succeeded or not, anyway this fic is completely unrelated to any other of my fics I’ve written with these two nerds.  
> Also, this was the first k– meme prompt that caught my attention, though my initial thought was, nah I could never write this, so I chose to write a fill for a different one instead. And yet here we are.

_epithymy_ – desire, lust

* * *

 

The Venatori, Samson thought, were odd, not only because most of them were mages. They were Tevinter mages, which meant they used blood magic without feeling any sort of remorse. He, a former templar, should hate all of them equally. He felt rather indifferent, instead, although he had to notice who was leading them, especially in situations like this one, because Calpernia was a person who could not be ignored.

Since both the Venatori and the Red Templars were working for the Elder One, it meant they sometimes had to share quarters. And there were times when members of the other group could witness situations that were… interesting to observe. Such as the one he was observing now.

Mages gathered in the great hall to have a dispute or whatever, Samson didn’t care at first when they were all talking like civilized people. Then it escalated into something that could end badly. Anger was a good fuel for magic, but not in a place like this, with other Red Templars present. In the centre of this argument Samson recognized Calpernia and Ermiond, and they both looked like they wanted to see the other burn or bleed.

“Grey Wardens should be our priority,” Erimond pointed out. “I demand we send more men– “

“You _demand_?” Calpernia interrupted him, raising her voice. Even Samson, sitting on the other side of the room, could see the ugly frown on her face. “We are sending as many men as the Elder One commands. It is because of your incompetence that we are losing them, magister Erimond!”

In her lips 'magister' sounded like an insult, and Samson was perfectly sure he wasn't the only one who noticed that. Ermiond heard that, too, his lips twisted, fists shaking. It was a clear sign the man was very close to casting a spell, it was something mages always did if pushed. Years of templar training taught Samson many things. He noticed he wasn’t the only one observing the mages, as the rest of his soldiers were now silent, their attention focused on the argument.

“I believe you misunderstood my intentions, Lady Calpernia,” Erimond barked, his voice dripping with venom. “You accuse me of incompetence, yet I do not feel the need to prove myself and my skills, because people in the Imperium know my family has always been one of the most respected ones in all Tevinter. I do not need to prove I’m worthy serving the Elder One,  because I know I am. Unlike some slave girl who has lived this long because her former master was a fool.” His expression changed, openly hostile, his eyes glowing with rage.

“He showed you mercy, treating you like you were something more than a _thing_ he bought. Because he didn’t know that slaves who show talent in magic should be killed, so they would never think they are true mages, not filthy _incaensor_.”

_Oh_. Samson saw Calpernia’s lips twitch, and she blushed slightly but noticeably. Of course he was aware that supposedly she used to be a slave in Tevinter, though it seemed impossible to anyone who knew the Venatori’s leader. He also heard she was actively fighting against the traditions of her homeland, freeing slaves whenever she could. To use her past against her… _Dick move, Erimond_. Should he… say anything? It wasn’t his problem, and Calpernia might be a powerful mage, but she was still a woman, although he kind of never noticed that before. Besides, it was simply wrong when scum like Erimond disrespected a lady.

He heard one of the templars cursing and someone else telling them to shut up. Of course everyone was listening, perhaps that was why Erimond wasn’t speaking in Tevene. He wanted everyone to realize there was a former slave leading the Venatori. And that, according to a magister, was not right. Tension in the air was palpable. Angry mages were dangerous mages. Samson left his sword in his room, but touched the knife strapped to his leg, ready to use it if needed.

But, to his surprise, Calpernia remained relatively calm. Her initial shock was replaced by controlled anger, focused on Erimond who visibly flinched when she looked at him like he was something that she wished she could smash under her boot.

“You speak of my worth as if you were the one who could judge it. The Elder One came to me, I take great pride in serving him, and I shall be the one who becomes the Vessel,” her voice was strong and clear, and Samson vaguely wondered if he ever was so attracted to a woman’s voice, as odd as this thought was. He should be at least mildly offended that Calpernia was so sure Corypheus would choose her, but he had other things on his mind right now.

“I don’t want to be better than you, I _know_ I’m better than your whole rotten family, because my position and title weren’t just given to me. I had to fight with my own two hands to get where I am. All Tevinter may not know me yet, but they will, when I shall stand by the Elder One’s side as his champion. And if the thought of following a former _slave_ is so agonizing to you, magister Erimond, then I suggest you speak to Corypheus personally, and express your disappointment. I am sure the god we all serve will have something to say on this matter.”

Stunned silence followed her words. Some of the mages were looking at her with so much awe they might as well start worshipping her instead of Andraste.

Erimond opened and closed his lips, clearly struggling for words. Calpernia's iron gaze nearly crushed him, and when he finally came to his senses, his whole face turned red. He gritted his teeth and spun around, promptly leaving the hall. He didn't say a word; he needn't make a fool of himself any further. Samson quickly scanned the gathering, noticing there were some people who looked slightly uneasy, outraged even, clearly not happy with the outcome of this confrontation. Every powerful figure had enemies, and Calpernia wasn't an exception. In the sea of people who adored her, there were few figures who wished to see her fall, though Samson was sure she was smart enough to keep an eye on them and get rid of any opponents if needed. Erimond was an idiot if he thought he could win with this woman. And Samson had to tell himself he was a fool, too; he wanted to defend Calpernia while she didn't need him at all.

It was the moment when he understood perfectly why the Venatori follow her. Seeing Calpernia standing proud, head high, showing so much confidence and power, he couldn't help but feel intrigued. He never really considered her as... well, she certainly wasn't the prettiest girl in the world, with her pale skin, big teeth, flat chest and snarky personality, showing everyone she considered herself better than him.

Now Samson knew she truly was better than him. And she certainly didn't need his protection.

_Maybe it's a powerful woman thing_ , he mused as something inside him stirred impatiently, urging him to consider many silly thoughts. He should be outraged by the very idea of seeing Calpernia as someone else than his potential rival and the Elder One's general, but suddenly she seemed to be more than that. Or maybe it was just that he never really noticed Calpernia was indeed a woman. Now he saw it too well, it felt like a discovery of the century, and he had to ask himself if he was suffering from temporary blindness up to this point.

Yes, Calpernia was a woman. Not the girly kind who screamed when she saw a mouse. And not the kind who let her husband beat her when he wasn't pleased.

No, she was the kind of woman who could crush a man's skull under her shoe, after summoning flames to burn him alive. And Samson could only curse his own stupidity as he felt attraction blooming in his mind. He was sure he may have a death wish, and that it could only end poorly for him.

It didn't mean he wouldn't try.


	2. Chapter 2

When he visited Calpernia in her quarters the next day, Samson knew what to do, more or less. They never really talked before, but it didn’t matter, he should at least try. Better to try and fail, than… He cursed, feeling utterly stupid.

After knocking and hearing her voice, Samson entered the room. Calpernia was sitting by a table covered by papers and books, holding a blue porcelain cup in her hands, filled with most likely tea. He would never expect to see someone here drinking tea like some kind of Orlesian noblewoman spending her time planning a masquerade party not a military operation. Yet the fact Calpernia drank tea from porcelain cups was oddly right, as if it was exactly what he should expect from her. Of course she would choose tea instead of drinking cheap, sour wine straight from the bottle, like him.

She had peeled off her gloves, revealing long nails painted black. It seemed a bit bizarre that it was the first time he saw her hands bare. Or maybe he never paid enough attention to her body, especially her hands, gloved or not. Now, however, Samson couldn't help but wonder how would it feel, her sharp nails cutting his skin, adding new scars to the old ones, her long, thin fingers smeared with blood. He had to shake his head to not dwell on this thought for too long. It was disturbing yet so tempting, and he knew too well he had a weakness for mages.

“Samson.” There was a hint of surprise in her voice, her eyebrows raised a little as she put the cup on the table and folded her hands in front of her. He distantly wondered if she knew how elegant her hands were.

He gave her a nod, taking few steps closer, but not too close because this was probably the first time they were about to have a normal conversation that wasn't all about listening to the words spoken by the Elder One and discussing their next move.

“I'd like to congratulate you on your victory over Erimond.”

It was a good opening sentence that was supposed to initiate a casual conversation. He hoped. Women liked to be appreciated, right? He was awaiting her response, something along the lines of, _Why, thank you, Samson, I had to show him who's in charge_ , followed by, _Yes, you are the true leader your people need, Lady Calpernia_ , that could effectively break all formalities that stood between them like a screen. But as he waited, seconds turned into one minute and then two, Samson started to notice just how Calpernia was looking at him, and realized the response was not coming.

She was glaring at him, rather warily, clearly not sure what was he doing here, perhaps thinking he wanted something from her. The truth was he did want something but he could not voice his needs, unless he wished to die in flames, screaming. He couldn't quite get out of his mind the thought of her long nails scratching his skin, or her elegant fingers tangled in his hair, and Samson was sure he might be developing an obsession – which could also be a sign he was finally losing his mind. Great, that was just what he needed.

He decided to try again.

“May I?” he gestured at the other chair. Calpernia's brows furrowed, she didn't say anything, however, so he took it as his chance and quickly sat down, before she could throw him out of her room.

“Why are you here, Samson?” she asked, and it was so painfully clear she was far from thinking he would have any intentions for coming here other than attacking her just like the man she had to confront earlier.

Because they were both considered as the Vessel. Of course. It didn't mean they had to be at each other's throats all the time, right?

“I simply want to show you my appreciation– “

“Oh? Is that so?” she interrupted him, lips twisted in disgust. The face she was making was quite comical, and could be even considered adorable  –  on anyone other than a powerful Tevinter witch.

“Why?” she asked, command clear in her voice.

The chair creaked slightly when he shifted. “Do I need a reason? You did handle the situation well, if you ask me, it’s always better to show your people you are the leader they want. Erimond is a fool if he thinks he can replace you. You are quite… admirable, I must say.”

Her frown deepened. Maker, this woman was impossible!

Samson decided to continue despite her complete lack of response and perfectly visible anger. “I’m sure not only your Venatori approved of that speech, I’ve overheard my men talking about you as well. They were impressed… I still _am_ impressed…”

The awkwardness of this conversation nearly made him choke. He'd like to move past all these barriers, past the initial stages full of pointless talks about nothing. The mocking scowl Calpernia shot at him made him question if she could read his thoughts.

He cleared his throat. “All I’m saying is that, if you ever find yourself in a similar situation, and you need an ally, you have my full suppo– “

“I don't need your pity!”

She sounded so hostile he nearly ran away with his tail between his legs. Samson blinked, not prepared for Calpernia's fury being directed at him. She was a formidable foe, a powerful mage, and a fascinating woman; if he made her truly mad he would end up dead in seconds.

He chuckled, wondering if that would be the last sound he ever made. “I can assure you, Lady Calpernia, I do not pity you, though I’m quite sure you should pity me because I’m making a fool of myself.”

“To me it sounds like you came here to tell me I need your protection,” she spat. “Because a woman, a former slave, can’t take care of herself? I certainly do not need your help.”

“My protection? My help?” despite the seriousness in her voice, Samson wanted to laugh. “I think we both know you don’t need me. Void take me, you could probably command the Red Templars as well, and they would listen to you without a single complaint.”

“Then what do you want, Samson?”

Suddenly it all made sense to him. Of course she was so hostile towards him. The sad truth was, she was not used to kindness.

“I want to make it clear. I’m not your enemy. Perhaps my word doesn’t matter much, but… I have your back. If you ever need me.”

Samson could see confusion replacing anger as Calpernia narrowed her eyes at him. He stood up, deciding it would be wiser if he left now. There was still one more thing he wanted to do, however.

He held out his hand, and after a moment of hesitation, she put her hand in his, still looking at him warily, ready to attack if he made the slightest move suggesting he was here to hurt her. Breaking their eye contact, Samson looked down on their hands together. Long, thin fingers she could wrap around his neck and squeeze. Black, sharp nails that could cut his skin to see him bleed. And yet her hand was so... petite compared to his, not soft but rather it was a hand that knew hard work.

His lips brushed the skin on her slender hand, and he could feel Calpernia trembling slightly, fighting with the urge to take her hand away.

“I do admire you, Lady Calpernia.”

He was not lying, Samson wished he could tell her that, too; instead he gave her a nod, finally letting go of her hand, and left before he said what he could later regret.


	3. Chapter 3

She talked to Samson, again, and once more she couldn't stop wondering what was the purpose of his visits. On some level he seemed like a parody of a chivalrous knight from a silly novel she once read. The book was supposed to be worth her time but in reality it proved to be dull. She detested the thought of her assuming the role of a gullible little maiden that spent half the book waiting for the knight to rescue her. On the other hand, Calpernia wasn't sure how she should react knowing the couple spent the rest of the novel in passionate embraces and sharing hungry kisses described with such vivid details that years later she could still feel her ears burning.

She should focus on different matters, and yet here she was, talking to the man she should despise. She even offered him tea yesterday,  words left her lips before she could think about what she was saying. He refused, politely and with a hint of a smile, leaving Calpernia wondering if she had ever seen him smiling before.

She should not risk falling into politeness, especially not with the templar general. What put her mind at ease was the thought she could easily defeat him if he kept coming to her without his splendid armour or that ominous red sword, looking like an ordinary man he certainly wasn't. With a small gesture of her hand, she would see his flesh burn, though she did not want to hurt him. That was a surprising thought when she discovered she was curious as to what Samson would do next.

He was not bold, but rather obedient, leaving her wondering if he was a good actor so he could pretend he didn't want anything from her, or if he truly wanted only her company. Him kissing her hand became almost a ritual between them. At times he held her hand longer than was considered appropriate, but she didn’t mind. Every time his stubble brushed her skin, she idly wondered what if she touched his face with her fingertips. If she could scrap her nails along his jaw. Maybe tangle her fingers in his hair and _pull_. Something was telling her he wouldn’t oppose, and she would enjoy that.

Tonight she had two glasses of wine instead of tea. Though she never liked the taste, now she longed for the warm numbness and fake confidence it offered. She felt like she needed to be bolder so she could push Samson and he would finally confess why he was so interested in her. There were other women among his own soldiers and the Venatori, women with ample breasts, luscious lips, and splendid curls around their pretty faces. And yet he focused his attentions on her. Calpernia felt curiosity curling inside her, and she knew she was getting impatient.

Men, various shapes and sizes, she never really paid attention to them. They were either other servants, other slaves, or magisters, and she wasn't allowed to look at the men wielding true power or else she would be whipped or worse. Thankfully, her master's circle of “friends” was small and consisted of people who usually ignored her. Though one of them was briefly interested in her. He once followed her back to the storage room, grabbed her wrists, and she was sure she was going to die then. But somehow he lost all interest after he tore open her clothes. Her thin body was not a problem for her, but apparently it was for him, since he angrily pushed her away, and she could hear him mumbling, “A girl!”, before he stormed out. It never happened again.

She wore a simple grey tunic tonight, so ordinary she should not be seen by other Venatori or else they would think some peasant girl replaced their leader. So Calpernia decided to stay in her chamber while her usual clothes were being cleaned. She remembered how Samson looked after battles, closer to a beast than a man, rivers of blood running down his face, sword and armour. _Not his blood, but blood of the enemies he killed_ , she mused, and something inside her twisted.

She could have spent this evening writing letters or reading, but the second she heard knocking on the door, she realized she had been waiting for him, so they could have another talk, rather pointless, but inevitably leading _somewhere_ this time. Calpernia was determined to know where exactly.

Again they talked, and it was so… pleasant, talking to him. Perhaps she should be careful, but Calpernia knew how to take care of herself. And she was curious, more and more with every passing minute. It was after midnight when Samson stood up and held out his hand to press a _goodbye kiss_ to her palm, as she called it. This time she got up as well, not sure why she felt the need to brush his cheek with her fingertips after he kissed her hand. She noticed Samson froze, uncertain what to do. Calpernia bit down on her lip, her hand now tracing along his jaw.

She was intrigued, she had to admit. Samson wanted from her something she wasn't quite sure she could give, yet she decided to try. If they were going to play, they would be playing by her rules, however.

_This isn't kindness, this is..._ , she felt confused. This whole situation was like a poor parody of courting. Calpernia had no whish of being courted, she wasn’t some kind of prize for a man who would manage to trick her into believing she was attractive. She hoped Samson understood that. If not, then she had to show him she was not some feeble creature he could conquer. Just in case.

“May I speak my mind, Lady Calpernia?” he asked, and she noticed him leaning into her hand; it was so painfully visible he wanted more of her touch.

“You may,” she generously offered.

“I’d like to stay longer. If you let me, that is.”

“If I let you?” she repeated, and her lips curled into a smile.

Samson nodded. She snatched her hand away, irritated, and he nearly scowled when she stopped touching him.

“It will mean nothing,” she said firmly.

“Of course. And nobody has to know.”

“Nobody will know about this.” Calpernia kept her head high, fighting with a blush blooming on her cheeks.

He leaned closer, so close his long nose almost touched her face. As his lips slowly tasted hers, she vaguely wondered if he can tell she had wine before his visit. He explored her mouth, checking what she would allow him to do, how far he could go. She didn’t stop him.

All her life she focused more on trying to survive, staying alive was always the priority. Calpernia now realized she started truly living only after Corypheus offered her freedom. She could do what she pleased, serving her new god because she wanted to repay him, not because she was sold and bought by a magister that treated her like nothing but a mindless object.

In her world of constant threat, there was no time for desire and love. Calpernia read about them but they were some distant emotions she had never felt herself. Thankfully, her former master devoted his life to knowledge, neglecting his social life completely, while the rest of the Imperium loved their decadent lives. She knew slaves purchased specifically so that they would pleasure their masters. Beautiful men and women. She was so glad she wasn't anything close to beautiful.

Feeling his hand on her leg pulling up the fabric of her clothing, she broke their kiss, impatient. As Samson stared at her in confusion, she took off her tunic in one swift motion and threw it aside. She heard him inhaling sharply when he realized she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. Tonight she had no time for patience.

She stood before him, bare, wondering how much he would hate her imperfections. After so many years, Calpernia didn’t mind that her body was far from the ideal men seemed to prefer. Whorehouses were full of women with big breasts, wide hips and  full lips. Well, her hips were rather wide but it didn’t change the fact she was not what men considered desirable.

Now she carefully observed how Samson reacted, ready to see aversion in his eyes. But the _want_ she saw was far from the repulsion she expected, and she had to curl her hands into fists so he wouldn’t notice they started to shake.

She watched him sink down on his knees, and gasped silently feeling his lips on her stomach, then her hip, then lower, while his hands pushed her legs apart. His stubble scratched lightly against the skin of her inner thigh, a surprisingly pleasant sensation she didn’t expect. Her fingers tangled in his hair, gently at first, then with more force realizing it was something she wanted to do for a long time, and Calpernia pulled him _closer_.

With first touch of his tongue she dug her nails into his scalp so hard she was sure it had to hurt, but he did not complain, completely focused on his current task. She bit back a moan, as her hips moved in a way she couldn’t control, and she heard herself whispering, _Yes_ or _More_ or possibly both, she wasn’t sure.

A sound in between a whimper and a sigh escaped from her throat, her whole body shivered, and Calpernia desperately fought to stand straight, legs shaking. Suddenly it was all too much, blood turned into flames, heat consuming her body, weaker than ever before. With a choked cry, she gave up, pushed him away and stumbled forward. Samson landed on the floor with a grunt, while she finally found her balance again.

There was no time to appreciate the sight in front of her, the templar general sprawled on his back, lips wet, nothing but confusion and panic on his face, so afraid he did something that displeased her. He pushed himself up on his elbows, opening his lips, perhaps to ask what he did wrong or maybe beg her to let him try again, and she nearly laughed in his face, enjoying the sweet feeling of power she had over him.

In the middle of this chaos, Calpernia still remembered what she wanted, and stepped closer. She shot him a warning glance, _Do not move_ , and he snapped his mouth shut, his eyes filled with so much obedience accompanied by, ah, _eagerness_ , when she sunk down, her knees either side of his head. Her fingers again wound tight in his hair, she pulled him back to her, feeling his hands firmly holding her legs so she could keep her balance this time. For a second Calpernia wondered if she was going tospend the next few days with finger–shaped bruises on her skin, though nothing else mattered when she felt his tongue again just where she needed it.

After she cried out, her hips bucking one more time, she finally released her hold on his hair and stood up, struggling to calm her breath.

 “Are you… pleased, Lady Calpernia?”

Hearing his seemingly innocent tone and amused smile, she wanted to smack him. How smug he looked, just lying there, the bastard. Then she noticed the wetness smeared on his lips and the side of his face, and had to bit her lower lip as her whole body shivered.

“I am,” was her short reply. Calpernia took a step back, forcing her legs to cooperate. “Stop calling me that, you know quite well I’m no lady.”

Samson blinked and nodded, taken aback by her harsh voice.

“You may leave now.”

She observed him as he got up, suddenly feeling so small as she stood naked in front of this tall man with broad shoulders. The thought that she made him obey her was delicious.

“Will I see you tomorrow night?” he asked in a normal voice as if he was asking about the weather. But she could see the spark in his eyes, the want, and that was just what she needed to make her final decision.

_Tomorrow? So needy!_ , part of her wanted to mock him and laugh endlessly. She didn't because she wanted it, too. Something twisted in her gut. Perhaps she wanted it even more than him.

She could tell him no. She was sure Samson would accept defeat because she told him no. He was good at obeying orders.

“Yes, you will,” Calpernia replied, tasting power on her tongue.


End file.
